robbing himself
by lowi
Summary: Mundungus Fletcher is hiding, when he encounters a really strange mirror. Written for "The Mirror of Erised Competition" at HPFC forum.


_A/N: Written for __The Mirror of Erised Competition__ at the __HPFC__ forum. Thanks to __mew-tsubaki__ for betareading!_

**robbing himself**

**Character: Mundungus Fletcher**

Mundungus ran faster, hoping he wasn't just imagining that the shouts become him were becoming lower. As he turned a corner he arrived at the main road of Diagon Alley – which, of course, was crowded. His first thought was _dammit! _but when he began pushing his way through, shoving a rather bulky woman into a short, bald wizard and thereby causing a lot of tumult, he realized it might have some advantages. Maybe his followers would simply lose him among all these people.

He continued his stride, receiving more and more glares, and he would have done anything to be able to Apparate away, since it would have been so much easier. But that wasn't an option, not when he held all those cauldrons in his arms, and by doing so the opportunity would be gone. And, not to mention, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, so he couldn't miss it.

He glanced down at his watch. He had fifteen minutes to get to the pub, or Mike would be gone. _Shit! _He really had to hurry up. As Mundungus put an elbow in a boney man's ribs, he looked backwards. Should he risk getting his followers back on his tail by leaving the street and taking the shortcut? He would never make it if he didn't and there was always the tiny chance they wouldn't notice him and actually continue down the road. So, making his decision in the time of a heartbeat, he slipped away and into a darker street.

When he had run around a corner of the street, he slowed down a bit because he wanted to hear if he was still pursued, but also because he was out of breath. It was completely silent – except for his panting, that is. Yes, he thought, he had managed it! He really was brilliant.

He was about to smirk to himself when quick steps suddenly echoed behind him again. Darn. And now he would be stuck, it simply wasn't a possibility he could outrun them – yes, he did admit that – and there was nowhere to hide.

Or was there? Wasn't that door a bit ahead of him left ajar?

He glanced over his shoulder; there still wasn't anyone in view so he would have time to slip in unnoticed – if he ran _now_.

And so he did, clutching the cauldrons really close to his chest so they wouldn't rattle as he entered the dark building.

He put the cauldrons down on the floor, very carefully, and peered through the dusty curtains that hung in front of a broken window next to the door. He saw how the people who had been searching for his backside all day ran past, not even spotting the door he had entered through, and he grinned to himself.

Now he would only have to wait a couple of minutes and make sure they wouldn't return, and then he could walk out, now being the one following their scrawny arses, taking the first street on his right and arriving at the pub in no time! Once again he praised his own brilliance. Merlin, he'd deserve every Galleon he could get from Mike, he had fought so hard for them – maybe he would even reward himself with a drink?

But what should he do now? He suddenly became aware of his surroundings; before, he hadn't even looked at what this place was, too busy assuring himself he was in safety – and huffing too much to care. Now, though, he had time to inspect this room. And, hell, it was an odd sight. It was crowded with old furniture – shelves, tables, mirrors, paintings – all covered in dust.

It looked like some sort of storeroom – except for the fact that all of it had to be rather valuable, Mundungus thought as he wandered around, letting his fingers stroke a frame of a painting. But, then, why wasn't the door locked? Here was something that wasn't right.

Too bad all of the things were too heavy for him to carry, Mundungus mused darkly as he observed a pompous mirror in a corner. Maybe he should refresh himself a bit, it wouldn't do bad to his impression later when he met up with Mike – perhaps he would even be able to demand a few more Sickles for his cauldrons.

He walked up to the mirror and wet his fingers by licking them, beginning to smooth out his ginger hair with them, when he noticed something _very_ wrong.

In the mirror, his hair was already lying flat, combed into a neat haircut, as if lots of hair gel had been used to it.

And hell, why would he have been using pomade?

It really didn't make any sense. At all. He could feel his hair sticking up, but in the mirror his fingers moved in thin air above his head. And now he spotted even more things that were so _wrong_. His cheeks were smooth, but he knew he hadn't shaved for a good six days, and, when he touched them, there was a thick stubble.

More, his clothes, he wore clothes that he had never seen before – except for in the reflection. Besides, it simply _wasn't_ those he was wearing. Of course he wasn't wearing that black suit – which he on others had stated it made them look stuck-up and silly, but on him, they were perfect.

But, come on, he shouldn't be standing here admiring himself. What kind of mirror was this? He understood it was somehow magical, needless to say, but what was its finesse? It wasn't showing the future (or the past, he had _never_ looked that well-groomed) because he was several years younger than thirty in the mirror.

Perhaps… Perhaps it showed something that _could _have been. If only things hadn't…

Either way, he interrupted his thoughts, either way it was a very pleasant sight. He looked so tall, powerful, wealthy, and so intriguing with that little grin that appeared in this very moment. As he stood there, watching the glint of a predator in his eyes, he slowly changed his mind. Maybe it did show the future after all. Maybe he wasn't younger in the mirror; maybe he only was cleaner and fresher.

The smirk on the mirror image's face grew wider, flashing pearly, white teeth. Oh yes, it had to be like that – one day he would have become the man in front of him – he only had to wait for it to happen.

Suddenly he heard steps on the floor above him and he quickly rushed out – after a minute of hesitating but finally being content with a last, long glance at himself… he wanted that picture etched into his mind forever.

And actually, Mundungus would never forget how he had looked in that suit and he would never stop waiting for that person to become him.


End file.
